If that morning she expected it to be any different than the rest, all she collected in the end was disappointment.
Even the wind was too clean. Perhaps it would be considered refreshing in the past, when the world was consumed by the Legion's endless inferno, or even after it in Lordaeron, when the Alliance and the Horde left behind an ocean of rotting flesh for the vultures to feast once the fires of war burnt no more. Celysiel was now greeted by the cold winds of the north, though a different kind than what interested the Horde at the present day. The scent of wild flowers met the salt of sea; it was once linked to better days. Darker days. If there would be a chance of decomposition, it would remind her of home.
Clouds of grey painted the sky above her as the march in the otherwise rainy at this time of the year fields of Azsuna continued. To visit was always desired, though not under the current circumstances. No ruins, olive gardens, or creatures of myth were meant to be spotted. Just the odour of demons, but it was constantly denied. Thus mornings were dedicated to short walks away from the tent and the warmth of another, as if solitude would bring greater clarity, the answer to a riddle that could not be solved. Under the grey clouds, the raging waves were assaulting the rocks below with fury unbridled. They did not look like they were made of water at all. What they reminded Celysiel of was the thick darkness once seen in Mac'Aree, a floating piece of land that could be reached no more.
Looking at it. Hearing. Promising. She closed her eyes and exhaled. A voice. But it was not real. It was yearning.
She did not realise that her hand had reached for the silver locket, not until her eyelids were lifted for once more to take in the view of the furious sea and it nebulous cover. And then a drop. And another. Its weight may have been light, but it was strongly felt onb the young elf's dark clothes. The cold of this shy rain was surprisingly not felt, but it was water regardless. The tent was far behind. The only way was forward.
It was only then that Celysiel's eye caught a path at the side of the cliff, almost lost into the weeds and the labyrintial swirls between the stones. Though she approached, for a moment her march was halted by hesitation. The large maw of a cave's entrance was clinging under the cliff, something impossible to notice for those who stood on the very top. As if making the decision for her, the rain's intensity grew, though not significantly. Holding onto the rocks at the side of the path, the Sin'dorei began to make her way to cover.
The closer she reached, the more she could feel the bits of rain mixed with the drops of the sea as the waves were crashing against the path. They were oddly refreshing, leaving a hint of salt on the pale skin of her cheeks. And as the steps were made on that steep path, it was a true torment not to hold onto that jiggling chain of silver hanging from her neck and having paranoia whisper in her ear that it would fall to meet the water below. It never did. Her ears twitched to a whisper unheard, one enough to soothe her troubled spirit. Finally, her boot's heel clicked against the stone floor of the cave.
And what she felt was the one thing left in the world that she knew all too well.
Its sweet taste could be felt on no tongue, but never had a cold embrace seemed warmer. It was rare that darkness would ever manifest to her in whispers when only hints of it claimed the atmosphere; this time, like most, it brought an awakening within her mind. Clarity. It greeted her before the drippling of water that reached the ground, forming small pools in the dents. And after that, another sound. Almost like wheezing and incoherent mumbling blended together. Slowly, the young elf raised her hand to wrap frail fingers around her locket. It was far more than a nagging feeling, that the source of the shadow embracing her was not something, but someone.
He was curled in a ball just behind the first wall, away from the small, salty pools tainting the ground. A truly pathetic sight one could think, as he was clinging to the ragged robe adorning his skinny form. And he reeked - oh, how he reeked. Not only of fish and sea, but also of the lack of magic in his eyes, the curse of being born nothing greater than a Human. A mere boy, no older than fifteen, but his skin had wrinkled and his cheeks had sunken so much that he could as well be mistaken for an old man. The colour of his hair no one could say. Weeks, if not months of dirt, offered an ill, green colour. But his eyes were clear, almost as grey as his skin. As if life had no place in him. Still, his constant shivering, his heavy breath remained there to tell that he was alive.
It surprised Celysiel that the sight of the boy awakened no offensive instincts within her, but as if he wished to honour that, there was no attempt of an attack from his side either. His eyes were darted on the stone below his feet. Though she did not dare more, as if what lay before her was a sleeping beast. Only her digits slowly sought the silver chain around her neck, seeking the peace the one sleeping within offered. But they never reached it.
"It is not here, you know." echoed the other's voice. Weak, almost that of a ghost. Celysiel did not flinch and he did not look at her, as if he were blind. "It has been quiet for so long. It will always be quiet. There is nothing I can do anymore. Nothing I can do."
They were words without response as the Blood Elf finally took a step towards the boy. Once his reaction remained lacking, it was used as a sign to take one more. Now the course of her hand changed, waltzing softly from the locket to the young man. What for she was not certain. Nor did he take it in any manner.
"I do not hear them anymore." he whispered in despair, crying with no tears to burn his eyes. And there is nothing else left, nothing else. Just me now. And it is maddening. And I hate it! I hate it! I am blind! I am alone! Do you know what it feels like? Do you?"
Gently did her empty fingers reach for the hood barely covering the boy's head. I do not-" she stammered, but his form twitched violently as he pushed her aid away.
"It comes from within!" His words almost felt like a protest. "I can sense it! You hear them too, you have known them! You are blind, but do not know it!"
A second attempt was made to move, this time not to remove Celysiel's hand from his vicinity, but strike her. How pitiful it was the apprentice did not point out, but merely caught he Human's wrist in her fingers. Her strength was insignificant like his, but he was the malnourished one.
"It comes from within." she calmly confirmed. "The shadow. Shaped by fear. Yours by despair. Why are you here? Demons no longer infest this land. Shadows never did."
Somehow, her words put a smile on the boy's lips. Calm at first, peaceful. Until it grew even more. Stretching to the very point of dementia, something no youngster should know. Effortlessly, for he met no resistance, the Human reached for Celysiel's shoulder to hold onto it. "It is everywhere." he uttered amidst his giggling. "It has always been everywhere. We were looking for it in cracks on the ground, the bottom of the ocean. Why? It was here!" His hand moved to her temple, grasping for the snowy locks just below the blackened blooms. "It is what the Mentor said."
"The Mentor." Celysiel mumbled, never choosing to remove his hand. Only move hers above her heart, where another rested. "Who is the Mentor? What did they say?"
But the boy shook his head before shooting it back, chuckling. "Exploit their fear. Their anger. Their madness. Their fury." He closed his eyes, sticking his tongue out to let it caress dried, suffering lips. "So much fury to spare. So much power. It could be theirs if they acknowledged it, yet they are blind. Blind. And the power must be claimed by those who know. Those who know! But I do not know." He hesitated for a moment, before falling to the previous hypotonic state as before. "It has been quiet for so long. I am not worthy to hear them anymore. I am not."
"How do you hear their voices?" she asked, while the one in her own mind was endlessly whispering, reminding, pushing, tempting. "Is there a source? Something you cling to?"
All he did was shake his head, before letting it fall on Celysiel's chest. Just above the locket. She held her breath. Dangerously close to the locket.
"The ground. The sea. The wind. They come. They are carried. They rise. They surface. But not anymore."
"And the silence is unbearable." Celysiel uttered, allowing herself to drop her guard for one moment, close her eyes. "The path is dark and the loneliness a burden you cannot shoulder. Thus you look for substitutes at first." Her body shivered, but the boy closed his arms around her waist and she cared naught for the dirt clinging on his robe. She understood. They both did.
"To make you feel alive." he explained.
"Fel."
"The weak."
"But you are never whole. You are alone in the loneliest path. Even when you are not truly, because they will not understand."
The young Human nodded, finally surrendering to tears. The drops failed to wash the dirt from his face, serving to only worsen the situation. But though she wanted, Celysiel did not cry with him. Her punishment would be such. To remember the days without that part of her, the tainted picture in the mirror and the curse she was wearing around her neck. Or the piece long left home, the shadow behind her own.
"There is no salvation for people like us." she whispered in his ear, letting his grieve for both. They were young; he was younger, but that was the truth. "We are the damned and the curse is our choosing."
And thus they were graced by it. Two souls lost in the ocean, clinging together as if they hoped for the other to be themselves' saviour. They would not be. For them there would be no fairytale endings.
"Do you know?" he finally asked without raising his head. "What the wind's contempt is?"
Outside, the howling of the elements was restless. The storm was upon them, covering the shores and grand archs of ancient cities, the flowers that would be born in the summer, but were destined to wither under shadow's cloak. Slowly, Celysiel shook her head.
"Its silence."
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